“Forsaken”

Out of the catacombs, a story of bloody proportions awaits my loyal fans! I have prepared a short tale for all who dare to proceed. A quick synopsis to titillate the taste buds.
A calling card written in blood is the signature for a killer roaming the hills of Cutter’s Pass. Detective Steve Creighton and his team have been assigned the grisly task to stop the madman at all cost. What they discover sends them on a manhunt, leading to one of their own. Will they be able to stop the one who calls himself Forsaken, before he quenches his taste for an inhumane delicacy? Only time will tell…
Without further ado, the first installment… (Remember, death is only a click away.)

The man placed the blade against his muscled chest; with one quick motion, a cascade of crimson stained the steel intruder. Pain never really meant much to him. It was an act of realization if anything. The new scar would join the others, in celebration of his next conquest. His upper torso was riddled with the reminders of all his wonderful victims. Today, while he was involved in his daily dose of fitness at Hensen’s Gym, he had acquired an unlikely target. Her name was Shanna Wilks. A tall toned redhead; who instructed the early bird yoga class. He was amazed by her blemish—free pearl skin. She reminded him of a ceramic doll, sitting on the shelf of an exquisite antique shop, more so, than something living.
Shanna wouldn’t be that too much longer. He reached into his pocket and removed a metallic holder. Running his fingers along the ridges comforted him. This was his ritual. The monogrammed letters stared back at him, beckoning him to withdraw the contents. The man removed a blank business card, careful not to drip blood on it prematurely. The smooth texture of the paper was just perfect to capture each stroke, as he positioned the knife at such an angle; none of the precious fluid was wasted.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled. Almost time. The sound of chimes filled the car’s interior. He flipped open the console, and stared at the screen. “Shit, what now?” Taking a deep breath, he answered the annoyance. “Detective Creighton speaking.”
“Sir, sorry… I know it’s your day off, but we have something you need to see,” a soft voice apologized.
“Lydia, what’s going on?”
“It’s him again sir. He left us another calling card.”
Must be talking about Jessica. Ah, her blood was so sweet. “Where?” He playfully used his finger as a pen, as he scribbled in mid-air. He knew the location.
Lydia’s voice cracked. “2131 Providence Ave. Officer Davis and Beltz have the scene secured.”
I’m sure. “10-4, tell them I will be there in twenty. Clear on the other side of town,” he lied.
“Sure thing, sir.”
He slammed the phone shut. Why does everyone fuck with my time off? Glaring at the digital display of his watch, a crooked smile passed his lips. No worries, this won’t take long. He ran his thumb along the blade, and closed his eyes, as he devoured the sweet life juice. Ah, better than the last. Detective Creighton once again repositioned the blade against the thin cardboard, this time finishing his signature free from interruption. Perfect, simply perfect!
Creighton gently blew on the card, not wanting his creativity to be ruined by the natural way blood has the tendency to flow. Satisfied, he stepped from the dark unmarked cruiser. He weaved throughout a cluster of bushes and foliage, until he was at the scene of his “work”. Strapped between two saplings, was the torn body of a young woman. The fresh carcass had already begun to attract the creatures of nature, as they clawed through the flesh, taking prize possessions from their latest meal. Creighton smelled the air and relished the moment. Pamela Abens had been way too easy. The twenty-something brunette simpleton, was a local whore, the town of Cutter’s Pass would not miss. Creighton had taken advantage of that fact; watching her get wasted in these woods on several occasions, and barely making it back to town. She had done it again tonight, but this time she was his. There would be no more apologies to her distraught parents for the gross error of judgment. Now, the earth would swallow her with welcome arms, and be a part of her for eternity. Creighton knelt down and placed the card just below where her feet. Always the same place, always…
Creighton glared at his watch. Shit, gotta go!
It was ironic to say the least, patrolmen waiting for him at the Providence location had no idea; a murderer was coming to take over their crime scene. Quite ironic indeed…

House of Misery!

Trick or Treat. 

Ah, the phrase will be used in abundance in next few hours as children and adults alike shed their everyday skin  to don outfits ranging from their favorite pop star to the most grotesque creatures imaginable. (Truly, 2020 related.) It’s a great time to celebrate and partake in devouring handful after handful of delectable treats, but as with the good, also comes unmitigated evil. Hence, the story I have for you today. House of Misery is not my usual, but given Halloween is right around the corner, I decided to focus on a story I will be including in the Harvest of Death anthology, coming to you in 2021. It doesn’t necessarily take place during Halloween, but the atmosphere around it makes it seem like it does… Hehe.  I thought it would be fun to post it and give you all a sneek peek at the first portion. Well, without further ado, I wish you all a happy

and safe Halloween!

House of Misery

“What do you think?” Brooke asked, flipping back her long, blonde hair. She parked the black four-door sedan in a space alongside the dark, dilapidated structure that used to be someone’s home.

“Well, this street is called Misery Isle.” Austin sat next to her, flashed his partner a smile as he finished setting up the long-range camera he held.

The two investigative reporters were selected to this assignment, not due to their journalistic acumen but because they were the only ones who didn’t get caught up in the circus surrounding the origin of the house. Blake Misery had been the architect of this gated residence, just as he was for a majority of Grand Island’s modern buildings. The man was the epitome of success, and the naming of a local street in his honor was just a small sample of what the community thought of him.

But just as there was with every proclaimed hero, there was a dark side. It was rumored that one night, Blake returned home early from a conference, finding his wife of twenty years and her much younger lover in passionate embrace. He became enraged, grabbed a machete, and sliced them into pieces and buried them somewhere on the property. He then doused himself with kerosene and lit himself ablaze. Local law enforcement kept the details of the case under wrap, despite the fact that Blake’s son was also missing. A few months later, people in the neighborhood started seeing apparitions of Blake, his wife, and her lover roaming the property. Several reporters had attempted to enter the house to uncover what had really happened, but before they could get inside, something scared them away. Brooke and Austin wouldn’t be swayed that easily.

“It’s just a name. Don’t freak out on me.” Brooke laughed, exiting the car and opening the rear car door to grab a dark plastic bag from the back seat. She undid the tie string and removed several digital recording discs.

“Me? Freak out? I wouldn’t call it that…exactly.” Austin looked at her over the roof of the car, both eyebrows raised. The comment was not accurate in describing the former bodyguard. He had a history of being in volatile surroundings, and this wasn’t anything close to those.

His partner on this assignment was Brooke Anders. She was a recent graduate from Purdue University, possessing the cookie-cutter good looks most women in her profession usually displayed. Austin Davenport, on the other hand, had gained a great deal of weight around his midsection. The combination of high fat and nutritionally extinct meals, along with the lack of any type of fitness program, was to blame for that.

“You ready with the camera, Austin?”

“Hold on. I’ll be done in a few seconds.”

“Hurry up; this is supposed to be the night. I want to be ready, just in case,” Brooke said.

“How did you find out it was tonight?” Austin leaned in towards her.

“Strange phone call from an unknown source…early yesterday morning.”

“What do you mean strange?” Austin asked.

“Well, when I answered the phone, the man’s voice whispered something I could barely make out.”

“What was it again?” Austin had a little grin on his face, as he stared at the old structure.

“‘The evil you seek will find you on December 24, at the hour of contemplation,’” Brooke said, as the hairs on her arm stood up and her body suddenly felt like it was dipped in freezing water.

“What in the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but the day, Christmas Eve, does seem a little out there,” Brooke said.

“Yeah, it’s definitely out there,” Austin said.

A flash of light from a window on the second floor caught Brooke’s attention. “Look up there!” She feverishly tapped on Austin’s shoulder, pointing at the window.

“Whoa. What’s gotten into you?” Austin brushed her hand away.

“Get the camera quick…something’s up there.” Brooke ran through the overhang of branches covering the sidewalk. She burst through, almost tumbling at the feet of the crumbling cement blocks that used to be the front steps.

“Wait! You’re gonna kill yourself if you don’t slow down,” Austin called, chasing after her.

“I think someone’s in the house,” Brooke said, almost out of breath.

“I think you’re seeing things.” Austin finally caught up to her at the top of the steps.

“I know what I saw. There was something in the window looking at us.”

The two reporters faced the front door of the mysterious home. Austin held the camera at the ready, while Brooke shakily grasped the ancient silver doorknob. She jerked her hand back, staring at it in disbelief.

“You all right?” Austin asked.

“I don’t know. The knob is freezing. What’s going on?”

“Brooke, hello…it’s winter. Of course the doorknob is freezing.”

Brooke stared at her hand, noticing the skin immediately showed signs of frostbite. “Damn it! Look at this.” She stuck her hand out for him to inspect.

“Okay, I see it. You don’t want to leave, do you?”

“No, but you go ahead and try to open it.”

Austin reached into his pocket and slipped on one of his winter gloves. He reached for the knob, slowly opening the door.

“We’re in.” He glanced back and could see Brooke wrapping her injured hand with her brown scarf.

“I’ll be alright, but stay close, in case I want to get the hell out of here.”

“Gotcha. You’re right, though…it’s a little strange.”

“A little?”

“Okay. It might have some paranormal aspects to it.”

Brooke finished wrapping her hand as the two walked through the entryway. A thin layer of frost covered everything within sight. Brooke could see the warmth of her breath cut through the icy air. She looked in Austin’s direction. He gasped, noticing the icy interior as well.

“You got the camera rolling?” Brooke shivered as she grasped at the pocket flashlight. Even though her hands were covered, numbness crept through her fingertips.

“Yes, it’s ready.”

Brooke glanced at the side of the device, realizing the recording button wasn’t working. She tapped at it with her hand, and soon, the red light activated. The two reporters had only taken a few steps when they were assaulted with an odor of rotting flesh and defecation.

“Oh my God…that’s awful!” Brooke put a hand over her mouth, the taste of vomit filling her throat.

“Probably some dead animals in here somewhere,” Austin said.

“In this cold? That’s nasty, Austin. And it looks like this place is pretty well boarded up. I can’t imagine anyone ever living here.”

“Well, they did.” His voice was terse.

Before she could respond, a cackling sound erupting from above the two. “Ahh, ahh, ahh…”

Brooke turned her head toward the noise. “What in the hell—”

“Sounds like someone’s hurt. You were right. Somebody’s up there,” Austin said.

“I told you I wasn’t imagining it.”

Brooke pointed up in the direction of a spiraling staircase, as it seemed to disappear into darkness. A small ball of red light screamed across the floor above them. Brooke clung to Austin, nervous and afraid. Austin guided her with one hand, as his other held the recording device in position. He aimed the lens in the direction of the unknown illumination. Brooke’s first instinct was to turn and run, but the firm grip Austin had on her forced her to move forward. Brooke gave her co-worker a sheepish smile. The two cautiously ascended the stairwell. The deep, penetrating sound became stronger, piercing the eardrums of the house guests.

Brooke tried to cover her ears but was unsuccessful. Tears started to well up in both eyes. “Austin, we gotta get out of here!”

“I know—”

A strong booming voice began to reverberate through the walls, as the two again grabbed at their ears. The light flared brighter, and suddenly, they heard a voice with distinct clarity.

“The hour is at hand, and many have come before you are waiting.”

The stairs began to sway and rumble beneath the frightened investigators. Austin tried to keep his hand around the camera and maintain his balance, but he was failing desperately. The camera slid from his grip, falling over the edge of the staircase. Brooke scrambled up the stairs, racing against the wooden planks that fell as they were torn from their foundation.

“Austin, what’s happening? Oh my god…we’re going to die!” Brooke cried out.

She felt her body lift as it was hurled forward from the unknown force. Blood began to flow from a gash she had on her forehead as she bounced helplessly at the foot of the second floor. She turned and couldn’t see Austin.

“Austin? I’m hurt—where are you?”

Brooke realized the screeching noise had ceased, but the other noise was still deafening to her ears. Crawling to her feet, she braced herself against a wall. In confusion and disbelief, she fumbled for the flashlight but was unable to find it. She again called out for her partner.

“Austin…Austin?”

Just as Brooke regained a little balance, the unseen energy again struck her with little compassion. It propelled her backwards, smashing her through a hallway door, splintering her small ribs. She looked up and could see something approaching her. It was a man dressed in black with a hood around his head.

“Who are you?”

“I’m here. Everything will be fine, my child,” he said.

“Who are you?” she asked again, sobbing.

The figure in black stepped forward, then slowly slipped his hood away.

“My name is Austin Misery, and this is my father’s house.”

Brooke grabbed at her waist. “You’re Blake Misery’s son?”

He put a finger to his lips, removing a machete from under his cloak. “Shh. No time for talk now…lots of work to complete before daddy gets home.” He placed the palm of his other hand on her head and smoothed out her hair. “Welcome to your new home. And more importantly, welcome to Hell…”

(Death is only a click away.)

Cupid’s Kill. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Death arrives in diverse delivery methods.

One in particular is a plague to the detectives of the Marcona Police Department. A monster has returned, and he won’t rest until his vengeance is complete. Armed with a paralyzing concoction and the tools of his trade, he targets a select few to add to his collection.

Chief Mark Blankenship, along with detectives Brian Jeffers and Kelli Jordan, face off against the madman, hoping to end his bloody path of destruction.

Unfortunately, they haven’t anticipated the killer will sacrifice at all costs, making one of them his prized token…

Pre-Order Available Now!

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Red, White and Blood!

Independence Day in Marcona has just turned deadly. A crazed bomber has decided to terrorize all in his path, and he won’t stop until his revenge is complete.

Chief of Police Mark Blankenship and his daughter are unexpected targets of the attack, and they find themselves in a struggle for survival. He soon discovers if he doesn’t find the location of the devices or the man himself, all will be lost.

Will Blankenship be able to save the people of the city and disable the weapons of mass destruction…or will the trail of bloodshed include him and everything he loves?

Holiday Wishes for All! Gobble, Gobble!

Today, I want to wish all my fans and friends a wonderful Thanksgiving. I urge you all to put aside your creations of technology, (Except your 4K image devices to watch Thanksgiving Day NFL action…. hehe.) and spend some time giving thanks for what each of you is grateful for. So many times during the holiday season we over extend ourselves,  with what we promise to do, versus what realistically we can. The pressure the holidays bring can sometimes almost become unbearable. (I’m an expert on the subject matter btw…) But I implore all of you out there to take a deep breath and cherish this special time with the ones you love.

Forsaken…Finale?

The mass hysteria at the Cutter’s Police departmental offices had only escalated, as the Emergency Medical Technicians had gone through the motions, utilizing all the tools at their disposal, to bring the young female detective back from the grave. That of course, was a failure, and without a qualified Medical Examiner’s final autopsy report, Creighton’s statement was for the time being, accepted by everyone, especially the Chief of Police.
He had snuck through the crevice of investigators, senior investigators, and several media outlets, realizing what he had to do. Hensen’s Gym was a ten minute drive from the police department. Shanna Wilks would soon be finishing the last of her personal training classes; there would be only one chance to take her, before making his final exit from the city. The façade had lasted several years, but alas, everything comes to an end. Parking the unmarked, Creighton moved through the darkness, until he was at the rear entrance of the fitness center. Shanna would have the security system in place, but the proximity card issued at the time of membership, provided anyone with twenty-four hour access. Creighton scanned the card against the reader, smiling as he heard the magnetic door locks disengage. He slipped inside, carefully inching his way to where Shanna usually ended her evening. Quiet and empty. Exactly, how Creighton liked it. Off to his right, steam rolled out from underneath glass double doors, which told him, she was in the sauna. A nightly ritual that would be her end.
Unzipping his suit jacket, Creighton pulled out the blank piece of cardboard. Time to create. One swift motion toward his belt, and the double edged blade was positioned to carry out his bidding. Pushing on the door, he felt the instant heat vapors, and recognized it was warmer than normal. More than one person here? He stripped off his jacket, placing it on the door handle. Cocking his head to one side, Creighton thought he had witnessed something moving. Time to play. Hesitating for a fraction of a second, proved to work to his advantage, the masked figure was too eager; the movement telegraphed, sending the assailant crashing headfirst into the sturdy glass. What the fuck? Creighton positioned himself above, as his lips burst wide open and a boastful laugh was expelled. “Well, looks like you came to me.” Creighton raised the blade high above his head; a powerful downward thrust into the man, caused an explosion of crimson to paint the surroundings…
* * * * *
“What’s taking them so long?” Gelati bit his lip, straining
To see the display, Harold and Harlan were monitoring. They were only a building away, but somehow Gelati knew that may not be close enough. Harold rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Hey, the signal is weak, but we—”
Gelati peeked over Harold’s shoulder. “Peter’s GPS locator working?”
Harlan leaned in to pinpoint the eldest brother. His eyes scanned the screen, searching for the red blip. Removing the headset, he shot from his chair, pointing to the laptop. “Sir, something is wrong. I don’t have either of them here!”
I knew it… Gelati motioned at Harlan. “You, stay here. If they pop back up on the display, I need eyes on them.” Gelati grabbed his brother by the collar, yanking him towards the door of the small make-shift office. “Get on the horn to the Chief; tell him to send his people in… this goddamn minute!” Gelati patted at his waist, making sure his weapon was ready. I should have been with Peter.
They raced through the building, across the parking lot, meeting up with the several uniformed officers, also responding to the location. A burst of adrenalin propelled Gelati through the rear door of Hensen’s Gym. Thick balmy steam had completely engulfed the area, making visibility near impossible. Gelati eased his weapon from his holster, positioning it for confrontation. “Peter! Hey, you okay?” Silence greeted the group, as they stopped in their tracks, hoping something would give away the location of either.
Gelati’s portable radio squealed to life. The shaky voice of Harlan filled the small speaker. “Boss, we got a signal, but it’s moving away from you guys…and headed out of town! Gelati’s face was ashen. “Keep on them, we’re going—“
One of the uniformed officers grabbed his arm, pointing to the floor. The portable fell from his grasp, smashing to the wet tile, sending electronic innards in all directions. “No, please God…” His knees buckled, sending him to the floor. A few feet away, was a scene Gelati thought he would never witness. Face down, surrounded by pools of his own blood, was the motionless outline of Peter Bater. “Peter!” Inching next to him, Gelati knew it was too late. Fucking Creighton! Peter had underestimated the man, and this had cost him the ultimate price, his life. Gelati slumped over the body, as an ocean of tears exploded from him. There was no telling how long he stayed by Peter’s side, but didn’t move until the County Medical Examiner, tapped him on the shoulder. “Son, we need to take care of your brother.”
At least someone can, I couldn’t. He rose to his feet, collecting his jacket and damaged radio. Gelati had only taken a few steps, when the County Medical Examiner rushed to his side. “I think you need to see this!”
Turning to face his brother, the Medical Examiner pointed to a small piece of white paper that was underneath Peter. Gelati rushed to his side, snatching it from the floor. His eyes bore into the paper, as rage filled his face. Written on the front in what Gelati knew was blood, was the following phrase:
Only one is Forsaken!
Gelati bolted out the door, in the direction of his rental car. Steve Creighton had taken the life of Peter, and he would not rest, until Creighton was in the grave and rotting in hell. The GPS locator would unveil when the bastard did finally stop running, and Gelati would be there…waiting.

The End

Forsaken… chapter 3

“Creighton there will be some special investigators I have called in to check out this scene. “You can relax, it’s not the feds. A private outfit, G.S.I. Highly recommended by the feebs.”
“G.S.I. what is that?” Unusual practice…hmm.
Chief Walt Prescott’s gravelly voice made him cringe, when he heard who was about to invade his private playground.
“Stands for Gelati Scoop Investigations…they have a crack team of investigators that usually get the job done. I called them in to consult on this. We don’t want any more murders in our town!”
They won’t stop me. “Relax sir, I have some good people here too… we will get it under control.The bastard will be in hand soon-“
“Listen, two murders is too damn many. You haven’t gotten a handle on it yet, what makes me think you can?” “Not much evidence, but the two calling cards are something.” You won’t be getting much more.
“Sir. You are actually—“
“I’m already getting serious heat from the Mayor and the Governor. The parents of our beheaded girl are friends of both, as well as heavy contributors to the campaigns. Results equal arrests, and convictions, not egos.”
Ego, ha-ha. “Okay, I will be a good soldier and play nice with the new kids.”
“See and everyone calls you a class A asshole. Two guys should be landing at the airport within the hour. I gotta call about a third one… should be joining them later. Name is Peter Bater. Keep a close eye on him; he’s a convicted killer.”
Not too smart to let him out. “Are you fucking kidding?”
“No, this Gelati has some pull with a lot of special people. Apparently, this killer assists with profiling, and has a decent track record.”
If he gets in the way… “It’s your party.”
“He has some ESP or some shit… not too sure.”
Could be interesting. “Roger that boss.”
“Trust these guys’ instincts, they have yet to fail on a case and usually come to quick resolutions. Their tech guys are top notch and they have far better resources than us. Let them poke around a bit and see what they uncover. Some fresh eyes per say.”
Maybe fresh meat instead. “My crime scene is their crime scene. I want to apprehend this killer as much as anyone.”
“Good, then let’s see what comes of it. Keep me in the loop on this.”
“Yes, boss., No problem.”
Creighton shoved the phone in his pocket, as he marveled at his work. The girl had fought him, and even landed a few blows herself. It was all in vain, but it was wonderfully rewarding. Her blood was fresh, more so, than the town’s whore hanging in the woods. The taste seemed to linger on his tongue, giving him unseen energy to deal with the arrival of the three-ring circus, coming to work with him. It should prove to be interesting, especially the profiler, if that’s indeed what he was. Creighton walked back through the closet, reached down, picking up his crime scene processing kit. Time to get to work.
* * *
The wheels of G.S.I. were turning at a feverous pace; the technicians were littered throughout the crime scene, checking out as much information as possible. A tall thin pale man wearing clothing from an era, well forgotten, tapped Gelati on the shoulder, as he slid under the yellow-taped perimeter. A ghoulish smirk filled his face; he bowed to the man responsible for his temporary freedom. “Can’t say I’m overly impressed… my dear Gelati. But who is that man over there?” Peter Bater pointed towards the muscular frame of Steve Creighton.
Now the party has officially started. “Pete, he is the lead investigator, why you ask?”
He motioned for Gelati to follow him. “The eyes never lie… and that man has some euphoria over what is going on here.”
Clairvoyant critiquing in the house. “Okay, I’ll play along. What do you see in his eyes, that has the radar on high alert?” Peter cocks his head. “Watch his expression, as he walks through the crime scene. The muscles in his face are straining, and expanding the surgical mask he is wearing.”
“Maybe he’s breathing hard. It’s pretty balmy in this place… and that body fucking reeks.”
Peter’s eyes bore through his youngest sibling. “I don’t patronize your techniques… give mine some respect.”
“Sorry, what are you thinking?”
Peter rubbed at his face. Do we have somewhere I can talk to you in private… without all these men in blue? They give me the creeps.”
I can venture to guess, what they think of you. “Actually, we do. The Police department is taking us there within the hour.”
Peter clapped his hands. “Very well. I will reserve my so-called ramblings until we can talk there.”

Forsaken, Chp 2…

“Hello, what is it?”
“Mr. Gelati, this is Anwar from the Technology department. Sir, you have an incoming call from one of your brothers.”
“Okay, which one wants money? It better not be Peter… I’m still paying for his pet therapy program.”
“Ah sir, it is Mr. Bater… sorry.”
Freaking wonderful! “No way, are you sure? Damn, send it through.”
”Gelati’s Scoop investigations, this is Gelati how can I help you?” Why not be nice? Could be a prank caller.
A nasal sounding voice filled the small earpiece. “Hello, my dearest brother. It’s Peter.”
Why couldn’t it be a telemarketer? “Okay, it’s been a while. Is this really you? I thought you were in solitary?”
“I occasionally find myself there.” Anyhow, yes, hmm… how do you know it’s me? I will play your game. Well, the last slut I killed was the splitting image of our mother. I wish she was still around… would love to get my hands on her—“
Gelati raised a hand to the phone. “Enough! I believe it’s you.”One sick bastard.”
“Why do you think I get daily treatments of electricity coursing through my veins? Look… the reason I called is, I missed my big brother, and needed some airwaves alone with you.
Why me? “Have they lowered your meds or have you just not taken them?”
“Not the issue. I have been on them, and I’m doing as well… you know…”
As pathetic killers can do? Gelati switched from sarcasm to compassion. “What’s really going on?”
Peter sighed. “Well, the doctor I spoke to today, showed me a newspaper. They are trying to keep me in touch with reality. For reasons, I have no clue… nor care” He paused. “But dear brother, I do have a tip for you though. A serial killer is loose somewhere close to you… and I am the one you need to catch him.”
One creepy guy. “How do you know that? I just got a call today asking for a consult with rural law enforcement.” He raised his voice. “Is there something else you aren’t telling? Why would your doctor all of a sudden just show you a newspaper? I sense psychotic episodes on the horizon.”
“You know me so well.”
“It wasn’t your doctor, who showed you the paper was it?”
Peter cackled. “Aw, let’s just say… the person that contacted you, made special considerations to have me in on the party, as well.” I have certain talents that you lack, so they inquired on a profile of the killer… of which, I have started to build.”
“And I thought you were just wasting away, constructing license plates for crotch rockets.”
Peter mimicked the sarcasm. “You would be surprised what I offer. Gelati heard the shuffling of papers in the background. “Hmm, dear brother… according to these pics of his handiwork, he enjoys blood…and when I say enjoy… I mean, he likes the feel of it all over his flesh. Probably even may sample some of it.”
That destroyed my appetite for the next few years. “I don’t have the pictures you apparently do.”
“No. You most certainly do not.” An eerie silence hovered over the line for several seconds. “You know what would be entertaining?”
The gas chamber? “If you could compare notes with slasher boy?”
“Touché, but no… What would be absolute divine was… if I was to come up to Cutter’s Pass, meet your savvy team of geeks and freaks, and offer you some insight.”
Damn guy, even knew where we were going. “You, free on the streets? I don’t know if I could live with myself, if you decided to play Son of Satan.”
“You could keep me under close watch. Promise, I would be a very obedient guest.”
Peter was a great profiler… never been obedient at anything though. Let me see what I can come up with. I will let you know in twelve hours.”
“Ah, dear brother. Just like when we were kids.”
Gelati wanted to end the call. He could only take so much of Peter. “Okay I will talk to your administrator; I’ll see what I can do. In the mean time, I need to check out this latest crime scene and get the technical team to film it.”
“Cool, why don’t’ you call Harold and Bartholomew in on this too, we may need the contingency of the family.”
Ah, the Brothers Grimm incarnate. Maybe, Harold may want in if we need him, but Bartholomew is unavailable for the next 3-5 years. Too many robberies ended his current freedom status.”
If this happens, I have to watch Peter real close… close indeed.
* * *
Providence Avenue was located on the southern edge of Cutter’s Pass, in an area; most of the city’s generous population would consider upscale. The majority of the architecture was modern, as each was accompanied with the necessary Mercedes and matching cookie cutter lawn. The lack of any uniqueness bordered on the edge of criminal. Reports of another murder, especially in this area, had onlookers filling the streets, itching to get a glimpse of the dead body. They were armed with smart phones and cameras, poised to get visual evidence, before the coroner carted it away. The local media had systematically joined in, not wanting to be second fiddle to the amateurs. KRRT had even set up a tented headquarters, and were aggressively seeking reaction from whoever they came in contact with.
The vultures smell blood. Detective Steve Creighton shook his head, as he pulled in behind the powdered blue patrol car. A uniformed officer, mid-twenties, and pale-skinned noticed him and pointed in the direction of the two responding officers.
Creighton disgustedly stared at the crowd. Pathetic, simply pathetic. His thoughts were interrupted by the soft voice of a shapely uniformed woman in her mid-thirties. Amanda Davis…
“Sir, the woman has been there for a few days…decomposing quickly.” She handed him a barrier mask and a set of latex gloves. “Cody is inside…with her.”
Amanda, nice dirty blonde. Maybe one day… “Officer Davis, who called it in?”
She wiped at her brow. “Nobody. One of her college girlfriends stopped over and…found her like this.”
Good, nobody saw me. “How about her parents?”
“The girlfriend says they are in Nappa Valley for three weeks. No other relatives in the area though.”
“I see, let’s take a look.”
Officer Davis led him to the steps of a three-story brick home. It was lined with large stained glass windows. The front door was constructed of cherry wood, and the knocker which normally would be made of brass, was entirely ivory. Off to the right, was a spiral staircase. Officer Davis pointed. “It’s the first door on the left.” Detective Creighton put a hand on her shoulder; an act of emotion, he usually never expressed. She remained behind, to assist the other uniforms in crowd control. When he reached the landing, the smell of spilled blood, and death assaulted his senses. It was fortunate for him, he was wearing the barrier mask, or everyone in the room would have noticed his inappropriate smile, and this more than likely, would have stirred up possible suspicion, not to mention a visit to the department’s crack psychologist. Focus, this is your crime scene. Clearing his throat, the room snapped to attention. The tall tanned surf guru turned cop, Cody Belz, approached him. “Hey, sir, this is one fucked up dealio.” Officer Belz cringed. “Sorry, slipped.”
Creighton waved him off. “No worries. What have we got?”
Officer Belz escorted him to a behemoth of a walk-in closet. The racks of designer clothes upstaged even the most prestigious vendors within a three state region. Creighton glared at the attire. Spoiled girl got what she deserved. The closet appeared to be larger than he remembered; he was becoming excited as Officer Belz pulled away several layers of clothing, exposing the naked headless body of Jessica Gorman.
Officer Belz turned away. “He took the head.”
Creighton tried to look surprised. “What in the fuck would he want with it?” The delivery service has it… hehe. “A collector maybe, sir?” Officer Belz cleared his throat.
“Makes sense, but if our guy killed her here, there should be more blood?
Officer Belz cocked his head. “You don’t think it happened here?”
“No, there’s another crime scene, and we need to find it.” Creighton bent down, inspecting the body. The piece of white thin paper was sitting at the feet of Jessica Gorman. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a medium sized plastic baggie. “You see the writing here?” Creighton pointed to the signature.
Officer Belz leaned in. “Yes, this is the second one this month. Why sign it Forsaken?”
Can’t tell you all my secrets. “Your guess is good as mine-“A tap on his shoulder, forced him to whirl in the direction of the annoyance.
Officer Amanda Davis thrust a cell phone in his direction. “It’s the Chief. He needs to speak with you immediately.”

Death Prescription

Let’s talk about a not-so-new written work, that will be on a book shelf near you in the immediate future. I have been toiling to complete the edits on my new novel, but as fate would have it, technical difficulties have made a presence in the publishing process. (Sucks, I know.) But this has given me ample time to polish several other works, and bring them to light for all of my newer fans! 😉 And of course, my faithful followers of old, I have something special planned for you as well. But that is a few months down the road, so be patient. I wanted to share a chapter from Death Prescription, which I hope you all enjoy…remember, death is only a click away!

The Blackbirds’ Feast

The morning had a slight chill to it, as Conservation Officer Alicia Strand was conducting her morning patrol. She had picked up a warm cinnamon roll and a cup of piping hot chocolate, before she started her shift an hour ago. Alicia also brought along a bridal magazine, which she would glance at when she got bored. Not like Ethan will ever pop the damn question anyway, she thought, entering the deserted Dunlap County Conservation Center. The park consisted of one hundred and eighty acres; many recreational activities were available to the large number of tourists who would visit. It was known for its dangerously tall bluffs. Many climbers had attempted to ascend the mountainous terrain, but most were unsuccessful. That meant Alicia and the other patrol officers would spend a lot of time helping conduct rescue attempts for the misguided. She just passed one of the bluffs and was maneuvering the tan patrol jeep up through a winding paved road. The overused vehicle bounced along the path; she felt every deformity the road had to offer.
“Damn Jeep! I told Renni to fix these shocks,” Alicia said. She distinctly remembered telling the park’s mechanic about the needed repairs. Alicia drove for a few minutes longer and then decided it was time for a break. This will work, she thought. Alicia had driven to the most secluded part of the park known as Parma Point. Not too many campers knew it even existed; most of the time the park’s maintenance employees were the only people ever to spend time here. She turned into the gravel parking lot and noticed unwanted weeds had grown wild between various parts of the broken pavement. She would make a note of it and have the park engineer come out and throw some weed killer on the nuisance.
She turned into a haphazardly constructed parking spot, made of green treated two by fours, ready to finish her cup of hot chocolate. She was flipping through her magazine, when her police radio came to life.
“Dispatch, to four-ten.” The sound of a male voice filled the patrol car. Great! Alicia grabbed the car’s radio microphone. “Four-ten, go ahead, dispatch.”
“I need you to respond to a high angle rescue at Sutterman’s Bluff ASAP!”
“Affirmative, dispatch, I’m about ten minutes from there now.” Alicia said.
“I will show you en route to the location. Be advised I have already called fire rescue as well,” the male dispatcher said.
“I will advise when I’m on scene.” Alicia shifted the vehicle into drive, activating the lights and siren. She turned the vehicle around to leave the parking lot, instinctively looking to her right. The conservation officer did a quick double take. That’s sort of weird. She stopped the jeep and stared out into the clearing, where three picnic tables were positioned. The middle one appeared to be covered in a dark moving mass.
“What the hell?” Alicia had, the feeling something was terribly wrong. She squinted to see what was on top of the table, but couldn’t tell from the distance. She decided this may be just as important as the rescue and figured it wouldn’t hurt to investigate. Alicia would need to call dispatch back and let them know. The fire department will be expecting me, she thought, picking up the handset. She pushed the transmit button speaking clearly for the county dispatcher to hear.
“Four-ten, to dispatch.”
A male voice acknowledged the call. “Dispatch to four-ten, are you at Sutterman’s Bluff already?”
“Negative, dispatch. I think I have discovered something else here at Parma Point.”
“I already informed fire rescue you were on your way to their location. You’re the only one on duty. You copy that?” the male dispatcher asked.
“I need to check this out. I will advise.”
“Ten-four,” the dispatcher said; the radio went silent.
Alicia exited her vehicle, flipping on her portable radio. She walked briskly toward the picnic area. When she was about twenty feet away, she noticed the massive dark object she spotted was actually a swarm of crows. They weren’t making the loud obnoxious cawing sound these types of birds normally make. Very eerie, she thought. Alicia edged closer to see what the birds were drawn to, but couldn’t tell what lay beneath the never-ending flock. They were feeding on something. She figured some careless campers might have left their trash or spoiled food lying out and forgotten to throw it away when they departed.
When she got within a short distance from the black birds, Alicia looked down, almost tripping over a neatly folded pile of clothing. The garments were within arm’s distance of the picnic table; she bent to look at them more closely. That is very strange. Why would someone leave folded clothing here in the middle of nowhere? She took a few more steps toward the birds, trying to scare them. They appeared to be oblivious to her presence; only a few made any noise at all. Most of them continued shoving one another aside, flapping their wings now violently, to include themselves in the ongoing feast at the bottom of the melee.
Alicia waved her arms to shoo them off, as they hesitated before they began to fly away, and exposed what was underneath. She realized what the birds had been dining on. Lying prone on the table was a mutilated figure of what appeared to be a young female. The woman was naked; spread eagle on the table’s bloodstained surface. She appeared to be tied to the underside of the bench, by thin ropes. They were secured to what remained of both her swollen hands and ankles. Alicia almost choked on her saliva as she approached the victim. The disgusting odor of recent defecation and torn rotten flesh almost made her eyes water. She gasped at the sight of the woman’s face. The skin around her cheeks and eyes were ripped away from the bone. Her eyes were now empty sockets that held a gateway leading to her brain tissue. The sight was so riveting she barely could take focus from it. Alicia glanced down; the woman’s fleshy mid section appeared to have a carving engraved into it. She stared at the words the killer had sculpted
Not him…not here. Those words, and that monster were enough to scare anyone working in law enforcement the last several days, and she was no exception. Alicia pushed the transmit button on her portable and spoke into the black external microphone.
“Four-ten, to dispatch. I need assistance from a county supervisor and a detective ASAP!”
“What have you got up there?” the dispatcher said.
Alicia lost all radio etiquette. “A fucking homicide here at Parma Point! Homicide and it’s the guy… you will also need to call the coroner as well. I will secure the crime scene until they arrive.” Alicia peered at the corpse.
The dispatcher’s voice cracked. “I will get the detective on duty from the county! Also be advised more units will be heading to assist.”
“Ten-four, dispatch,” Alicia said, running back to her patrol car. She opened the rear hatch of the patrol unit and pulled out a roll of yellow police tape and a plastic body bag. The plastic would prevent the deceased from being eaten further by the wildlife. It was going to be a very long day…